


Skating Queers

by Green_penguins



Series: Spoilers: Willie Dies [1]
Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV 2020)
Genre: Angst, Child Neglect, Coming Out, Dissociation, Gen, I don't wanna trigger anyone so imma tag all the things, I'm soft for these gay boys, Kinda, Pre-Canon, Ray Molina's mom was a lesbian because i said so, Suicidal Ideation, Willie Backstory (Julie and The Phantoms), Willie-centric (Julie and The Phantoms), how the hell do you tag, like not super overt or anything but its there, probable overuse of sentence fragments to convey disjointed thoughts and actions, self-indulgent trash, skateboarding i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:49:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29788068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_penguins/pseuds/Green_penguins
Summary: Willie growing up with Ray Molina's lesbian mom because he deserves a good queer role model to teach him to skate gayly and braid his hair.
Relationships: Willie (Julie and The Phantoms) & Original Female Character(s)
Series: Spoilers: Willie Dies [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2190132
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	1. And so it begins

**Author's Note:**

> I've been on AO3 since I was like twelve and this is the first place I saw stories that portray gay and queer people in a positive light. I've practically lived here ever since but have never posted anything because I'm a coward. However, I recently watched Julie and the Phantoms and I'm honestly so soft for these gay boys and their cute little romance so I just had to contribute.

William had always been an outgoing kid, maybe growing up in a hippie commune will do that to a person. When he was five and he moved to Los Angeles, he walked right up to the ten-year-old who lived in the apartment next to them and announced that they were going to be the best of friends. Evangeline Molina had taken one look at this kid who barely came up to her shoulder with big brown eyes and messy brown hair and burst out laughing.

It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

His parents were nice enough, but they worked long hours and were high off their minds when they were home. There wasn’t much to do at the apartments. The pool was empty because of the drought, so he couldn’t even swim to chase away the pressing heat of California summers.

He found himself spending most of his time with Evangeline at the Molinas next door. For years, the two of them were nearly attached at the hip. They became Willie and Angie, their names almost always spoken consecutively. They walked to and from school together and she taught him how to skate on her skateboard in the empty pool. Well, Angie showed him how to skate in the pool. She didn’t actually let Willie anywhere near the pool until he was six and had been learning for almost a year. 

When Willie was seven, his parents bought him a skateboard for his birthday and he was so excited that he ran all the way to the apartment’s pool and hopped in. Angie had dashed after him, holding her own gift --a grey helmet that was far too big, but had been padded with old fabric until it would fit his tiny head-- and yelling about safety at the top of her lungs. She helped him paint his board and they talked about art and braided each other's hair. 

Despite his friendly nature, Willie never really got along with the kids his age. They thought he was too friendly, too girly with his long hair and soft voice and love for painting. They called him gay and queer and… other things that weren’t nearly as tame. 

Kids at school would always tease Angie for having a friend half her age, and this only got worse as the years progressed. Soon they went to different schools, and they began to see each other less and less. They were still friends, but there was a disconnect that neither could quite bridge. 

Willie cried when Angie left for college. She wasn’t moving far, and she visited every third Saturday to show off new tricks on her board, but it wasn’t the same.

Without Angie, Willie slowly became more and more closed off. The kids at school grew older and their taunts grew viler. It hurt, especially as he got older and found himself staring a little too long at the shirtless boys at skateparks. He had to admit, just to himself, that they weren’t exactly wrong. He was painfully aware that if anyone found out that he was actually gay, everything would be a million times worse. 

He stopped painting, stopped braiding his hair and threw himself into skateboarding with all the desperation of a hormonal teenager. 

Even his parents started to notice the difference. 

One day, Angie came back for a visit and Willie wasn’t at the pool. She checked with his parents, but they didn’t know where he was. She asked her parents, but they didn’t know either. She checked his school and their old favorite skateparks. She checked the museum she’d once taken him to, but he wasn’t there. Worry gnawed at her gut. It wasn’t like Willie to miss a meet-up, especially not without telling her first. In the three years since she’d left for college, he hadn’t missed a single one. She skated back to the apartment building, and by some miracle thought to look up. 

There, hanging from the top of their six-story apartment complex, were a pair of legs with brightly patterned socks. 

Shit.

She had noticed the last few months that Willie had been getting quieter. He would talk less and focus mostly on skating, but she’d thought that if something was bothering him he would tell her, so she hadn’t pushed. 

Angie raced up the stairs and made it to the roof, panting slightly. The door swung closed behind her and Willie flinched, but didn’t turn.

He was sitting on the ledge with his back to her and his legs over the edge, swinging his feet casually. There was a pair of scissors sitting next to him along with a couple strands of long brown hair, as if he’d started to cut it off and then changed his mind. From here, he looked completely at ease, but as Angie grew closer to the ledge, she saw that his hands were shaking.

“Nice view?” She asked, trying to keep her voice light. She leaned sideways on the ledge, resting her arm on it in what she hoped was a casual, open manner.

Willie said nothing, but he moved his hand over to hers and patted it lightly. He’d always been a physically affectionate person. She shifted and held his cold hand in both of hers, feeling the tremors that ran through it.

“Want to come stand with me? I could use a Willie hug.” She prodded carefully. There was a long moment of silence

“I’m not going to jump.” He said suddenly, his voice tight and wavering.

“I’m glad,” Angie replied, squeezing his hand, “but that’s not what I asked. Come stand here with me?”

Willie shrugged jerkily and let go of her hand, swinging his legs around and hopping down. Angie just about had a heart attack. His face was ashen and there were tear tracks down his cheeks and as soon as his feet were on the ground she pulled him into a tight hug. He was almost as tall as she was, now, and his chin hooked over her shoulder as she squeezed them tight. His shoulders were stiff and his whole body shook in her arms. 

She rubbed his back firmly, whispering “I’ve got you, it’s gonna be okay, I’ve got you, I’ve got you”

They stood like that for a long time, the moment stretching and stretching and then something snapped and Willie sagged in her arms, sobbing into her shoulder. 

“There we go,” She sighed, relief mixing in with her growing concern. A crying Willie was something she could deal with. It was a familiar challenge, nothing like the cold silence from earlier. “Let’s sit for a while, you’re all heavy and muscly now”

They sank down to the ground. She pressed her back to the ledge and pulled Willie into her lap like she used to when he was six and had scraped up his legs falling off her board. She rocked her body carefully back and forth and began running a hand through his hair. His sobs were slowing down now, but his breaths still hitched every now and then and there was a wet patch growing on her collar. 

“Want to tell me why you were alone on the ledge of the roof?” She asked quietly. He stiffened immediately and she cursed herself and her stupid mouth. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.” 

“What’s with the scissors though?” She asked lightly, “I mean if you want bangs I can help you. You’d rock a Farrah Fawcett look.” 

He snorted wetly, and she celebrated internally.

“What? I speak only the truth!”

He gave a full chuckle this time, and she gave him a quick squeeze. He began fiddling with the cords of his bracelet, which was usually an indicator that he was about to speak, so she stayed quiet and waited.

“I was going to cut my hair off.” He said hesitantly, “I thought that it would make me seem less… “ he trailed off.

“Less what?” she prompted gently.

“Less… gay” he mumbled. Angie hummed in understanding. 

“Do you want to have shorter hair?” She asked.  
“No.”

“Then you don’t need to have short hair,” she concluded confidently, “Besides, I know plenty of gay men who have short hair, so short hair means nothing.”

She smiled at him, and he gave a weak, forced smirk back. Clearly the hair wasn’t the only thing bothering him. 

“So I understand the scissors now,” she started cautiously “would it help you to talk about the roof?” 

Willie looked up at her, brows furrowed as though he were considering something. She looked back sincerely. He blinked, then took in a shaking breath and looked away. 

“Everyone at school calls me queer, among… other things.” Angie was suddenly glad that he’d looked away because she was sure her expression was one of pure rage and he didn’t need to see that.

“I’m sorry. They shouldn’t call you things like that.” She said in the most level tone she could muster.

“They’re right.” He confessed softly, staring resolutely at the sky. Angie inhaled sharply and felt him flinch.

“You like boys?” She asked, taking a steadying breath of her own.

He nodded jerkily, tears gathering in his eyes again. She could feel him tensing and coiling like a spring, ready to run if he needed to.

“I can’t relate.” She said simply, doing her best to inject humor into the words. Willie’s eyes snapped back to her face, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Boys don’t really do it for me, I’ve always preferred girls.” She elaborated. His eyebrows shot up and his breath came out in a soft “oh”. 

For the second time that day, he slumped into her, but this time it was with a genuine --if slightly hysterical-- laugh. She found herself joining in, relieved and more than slightly hysterical. They laughed until they ran out of breath and Willie rolled off of her to lay flat on his back. She sunk down beside him and they lay there, two queers laughing at the sky.


	2. From the Top

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically I wrote the whole thing over again but from Willie's point of view because reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People have actually read this, and that's like viscerally strange to me but also really cool so I'm adding the other part of this because I guess people liked it???

Willie wasn’t going to jump. He wasn’t. It was just… quiet up there, on top of the roof. 

There was something floaty about being up so high with the world down below. It made all his problems seem so very small. Made the deep heavy feeling of panic in his gut seem lighter. Made the threats and slurs and punches seem distant, disconnected from him. Those things hadn’t happened to the boy on the roof, he didn’t have to hear them, didn’t have to feel them under his skin. He could just sit and watch the cars go by and the waves crash on the distant shore. 

It became something of a habit, after that first time. When the sound of pavement under his feet and the rush of landing a jump weren’t enough to ground him, he went upwards instead and floated with the clouds in silence. 

It was nice.

He was never sure how long he spent up there where the sky met the roof, but it never really mattered anyways. Nobody noticed he was gone. He could fall into the sky and no one would be any the wiser. 

Days blurred into each other and time flew by, and Willie flew with it. On a day some time after that first one on the roof, Tommy had told him that only fags had long hair, that it was because their lovers wanted something to hold onto when they-- well, that day Willie decided that the hair had to go. 

He came into his empty apartment, unlocking the door with the key around his neck, and set down his skateboard. Then he went straight to the bathroom with a pair of long sharp clothing scissors that his mother used to cut butterflies into jeans. He ran his fingers through his soft, silky brown hair and grabbed a handful of it. He took the scissors and held them up, but before he could close them he glanced in the mirror and just… couldn’t do it. 

He sighed heavily and tucked the scissors into his back pocket before making his way up the stairs to the roof. He set them down on the ledge and then hopped up onto it, spinning so his legs were over the side. Willie sat there and watched the tiny people below walk around doing their tiny people things. Watching the sun sink in speedy bursts down the horizon. Watching the birds fly from tree to tree. Watching the sky grow dark as stars tried and failed to pierce the milky haze of the city. 

He laid down on the ledge to stare at the fuzzy dark sky. He watched the moon begin its journey down the path the sun had paved. He must’ve fallen asleep there at some point. 

He was probably missing school right now. 

Somewhere deep in his head he registered that this was concerning. That most people didn’t fall asleep on the edge of six-story buildings. That most people didn’t lose track of time the way he did. 

But Willie found that in the light of mid-morning, he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. 

He was sore, so he sat up. As he moved he felt the scissors shift under his thigh. They’d probably left an imprint in his skin from lying on them all night long. He picked them up. Gathered all his hair in a shaking fist. Squeezed. Heard the horrible snipping. Dropped the scissors. 

He unclenched his fist and stared at the strands of hair that remained in his palm. His hand was shaking. He dropped them next to the scissors and tucked his hands between his thighs. The sun was warm on his skin but he felt chilled to the bone. 

Willie looked out over the world and watched the sun speed higher into the sky, but he didn’t feel the floating. He felt cold and jittery, like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. His cheeks and neck had the tight feeling that came from dried tears. He must have been crying at some point. 

He swung his legs to hear the thud they made when they bounced off of the concrete ledge. 

It was cold.

He wanted to go back inside and huddle under his covers. He wanted to go skating and feel the rush of ground and air as he zoomed past. He wanted to tell someone. He wanted to bottle everything up and never deal with it. 

He sat on the ledge.

The door behind him opened and swung shut with a loud crack. He flinched. 

There were footsteps coming towards him. He didn’t look. Whoever it was would either talk to him or leave. He wasn’t sure which option made him feel more sick.

“Nice view?” asked the person. He knew that voice, but it didn’t make sense for Angie to be here. Today wasn’t the third Saturday. That was last week. Today wasn’t even a Saturday. Probably.

There was a hand on the ledge next to him. He nudged it lightly with his own. Then there were two hands, both of them holding his. They were warm, almost uncomfortably so. 

Not-Angie spoke again, and he focused on the tone and inflection of her voice. It certainly sounded like Angie, but that was impossible. 

It suddenly occurred to him that Not-Angie would probably expect an answer to her question. “I’m not going to jump” He reassured her. That seemed like a sufficient response to whatever someone would say when they saw a teenager sitting on a roof.  
“I’m glad,” Not-Angie answered, not sounding at all reassured, “but that’s not what I asked. Come stand here with me?”

That last bit was simultaneously a question and definitely not a question, so Willie shrugged and slipped off the ledge onto the main part of the roof. Standing felt odd, and he felt himself wobble a little on his feet, but he didn’t have a chance to fall because he was being pulled forward into a warm body and there were arms around his body and hair against his face and suddenly he was being held and it was so warm that he could physically feel his body realize that it too was supposed to be warm and start to shiver in earnest.

Willie stood stock still as he forced his brain to think again. There was a person hugging him like she thought she could hold him together by sheer force of will. She sounded like Angie and looked like Angie and felt like Angie and her hair smelled like soap and springtime exactly the same way Angie’s always did. 

So apparently it was the third Saturday of the month.

Which meant that he was completely missing weeks at a time. 

And fuck if that wasn’t terrifying. 

He supposed there wasn’t anything he could really do about that at the moment. He took a deep breath and focused on the present in a way he hadn’t done in months. 

There was a steady hand rubbing up and down his back and leaving a warm trail that chased away the chill in his spine. The hair in his face was tickling his nose gently with each breath he took, and the smell was fresh and vaguely sweet and so comfortingly Angie that it almost hurt. Angie was whispering in his ear a soothing chant of “I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve got you” and in the end that was probably his breaking point. 

He took a great shuddering breath and it caught in his throat and suddenly he was sobbing into Angie’s shoulder like a hysterical toddler. 

She guided him down to the ground and pulled him into her lap and he curled up and cried harder than he had in probably his entire life.

Eventually he ran out of tears and energy and somehow ended up telling her everything. Including the fact that he was gay. And apparently she was too? And the complete irony of having agonized over coming out to his best friend while she was probably doing the same with him was just too much. They ended up in a giggling mess on the hard concrete of the roof and apparently he hadn’t run out of tears because new ones were springing up in his eyes as he struggled for breath before making eye contact with Angie and collapsing into a fresh wave of laughter.

Just your average Tuesda-- Saturday. Just your average Saturday.


End file.
